A Tale of Sassy And Messy
by TwiAddictAnne
Summary: She's a sassy nurse. He's one messy soldier. Brought together in the wake of a disaster, they'll have to learn to fight together or perish. WWII Edward. Contest entry for Age of Edward 2017


Standard Disclaimer: _The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended_

 **A/N: This is a work of fiction, so I would appreciate everyone to treat it as such instead of a history book. The primary aim of this story is to have fun. So ... enjoy!**

 **A quick shout-out to my lovely friend, Alice's White Rabbit, for taking the time to sift through my erroneous words and beta-reading this little story of mine.**

* * *

 _Anglo-French Border, 1943_

* * *

"Masen!" A loud voice breaks through his dreamy haze.

"Sergeant Denali!" PFC Edward Masen scrambles up to his feet, reaching down to pick his firearm up from the wet land he's been dozing off on.

"BAM!" The Sergeant smacks his forehead and yells, "Now you're DEAD! Is this what you were trained to do? To snooze in an occupied land in the time of war?"

Straightening his back, Edward answers, "Sir, no, sir."

"Then get your lazy butt over to the infirmary to check on McCarty," the Sergeant orders. "He's been offered a transport back home, but he's been bitching about wanting to get back to war. You're his friend. Try to talk some sense into him."

Edward nods. "Yes, sir."

He waits for the _dismissed_ order before making his way toward the infirmary.

The sight of his friend and comrade, Emmett McCarty, makes his steps falter. Instead of the strapping lad of twenty-four who enlisted with him, there lies a man wrapped in layers of bandages with one of his legs amputated. Edward shudders at the thought of Emmett never running alongside him again.

"Masen!" his friend greets him in a jovial voice and his characteristic smile. "Give me some good news, buddy."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Edward can't help but offer an answering smile to his friend. "Well, the doctors are saying you're going to be better in no time." The untrue words fill him with true hope that someday his friend will get his mobility back.

"Good." Emmett nods appreciatively. "There's this English rose I've had my eyes set on, you know? Maybe when this war ends, I'll go and ask for her hand."

The ambitious tone of his friend's voice makes Edward wish he could make his dream come true somehow. Trying to make light of the situation, he shoves at Emmett's shoulder. "As if she'll have a barbarian as a husband!"

"Goodness! Heavens!" a voice tuts from behind Edward, making him snatch his hand back to himself. With the clicking sounds of military-issued boots comes a woman in her early twenties, dressed in a nurse's uniform. Without sparing a glance at Edward, she starts chastising Emmett. "Mr. McCarty, how many times do I have to tell you _not_ to sit up? You need to rest so your wounds can heal."

Emmett looks flustered at her chastisement. "Um … yes, ma'am ..."

And then she turns on Edward. "And you, soldier, what do you think you're doing here?"

Edward blinks. "Visiting my friend?" His answer comes out sounding like a question.

She huffs, placing her hands on either side of her hips. "Your clothes are filthy," she says, looking him up and down. "You do realize that all those germs you're carrying around have the ability of infecting all the patients in here?"

He swallows. "I'm sorry, Miss ..."

"Swan. Nurse Swan," she snaps. "All these men are in pain and are under my charge. So if you have a clean shirt, soldier, I suggest you go change and come back then."

Clearing his throat, he tries again. "Nurse Swan, we're men at war here. So it's only natural that ..."

" _You're_ at war?" she asks sharply. "Listen, soldier, we're all at war here. You might be fighting to free the world of Nazis, but I'm also fighting to save lives here. I'll thank you to keep that in mind."

"Of course. I didn't mean ..."

A chuckle sounds from his left, making him let out a sigh of relief. Dr. Cullen, the doctor in charge of the infirmary, places a hand on Edward's shoulder as he smiles at the nurse. "I've got this, Swan. Why don't you go and look at Lieutenant Gerard's bandages? I think he's ready to have them changed."

"Yes, doctor," she answers in a miffed voice, and with one more scorching look at Edward, she walks off in the direction she came from.

Dr. Cullen turns to Edward with a smile. "She's a little stern," he says. "But she's right, PFC Masen. You should clean up before coming here."

"Duly noted, sir." Edward nods.

* * *

It's only a few days later when Edward himself lands in the infirmary with a knife wound to his stomach from close combat.

When he sees the stern face of Nurse Swan looming over his, he squeezes his eyes shut.

"Is it very painful?" she asks in a voice softer than he was used to. He has to open his eyes and check whether it was the same nurse from his last visit to the infirmary. When he remains silent, her eyebrows pull together in obvious concern. "Mr. Masen? Can you hear me?"

He opens his mouth and whispers, "It's PFC Masen."

A soft smile turns the corners of her mouth upward, and suddenly, it hits him—Nurse Swan is a beautiful woman … one of the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes upon. "You should smile more often," he remarks unthinkingly.

Her smile fades. "What do you mean?"

He lifts a hand as if to touch her lips but then lets it fall on the bed he's lying on. "You look beautiful when you smile," he tells her instead.

She doesn't speak for a moment; when she does speak, her voice is emotionless. "You're going to need stitches. So if you'd wait a moment, I'll prepare the sutures." Then without allowing him to comment on the sudden change in her mood, she leaves.

Edward waits patiently while she treats him, and just before he leaves, he says, "I'm Edward Masen. What's your name?"

She lifts her eyes to his and then looks away. "You may call me Nurse Swan."

With that, she leaves him with more questions in his mind than answers.

* * *

In the following days, Edward religiously goes to the infirmary to get his bandages changed, and every single day, he introduces himself to her once again and asks her name. Her answer never changes until one day …

That day, Edward goes into the infirmary with his mind made up. When Nurse Swan approaches him with her hands filled with bandages, he jumps down from the bed.

"What are you doing?" she exclaims. "You could pull open your stitches!"

He shrugs nonchalantly. "I'd rather someone who trusts me does it again anyway."

She frowns. "What do you mean?"

"You don't trust me," he states. "And I don't know if I should trust someone with my well-being if she doesn't trust me with her name."

"It's not about trust," she says with a sigh. "It's just a long story."

"I've got time," Edward answers, determined to win her trust.

She lifts an eyebrow in question. "Can I at least change your bandages first?"

He considers her through narrowed eyes and then nods. "I'm all yours," he says with a wave of his hand. The beautiful nurse's cheeks redden at his remark, and Edward feels his heart jump in his chest at the hope that maybe … just maybe … this beautiful woman likes him too.

* * *

Later that evening, after finishing his patrol duty, Edward finds himself outside of the infirmary. He watches as the nurses exit the establishment to rest for the night while another team of nurses takes their place. He notices her silhouette, and just as she steps outside, he intercepts her.

Perching a hand on her hip, she gives him a playful glare. "You're very persistent, aren't you?"

He offers her a smile of his own and holds a hand out to her. "Care to take a walk with me, Miss Swan?"

"It's Nurse ..."

He points to the doorway to the infirmary behind her and says, "On the other side of that door you might be a nurse, but out here, you're Miss Swan, and I'd love to get to know you."

That blush he witnessed earlier spreads through her face, and she looks down at his outstretched hand. After a moment's hesitation, she places her hand in his, and he closes his hand around hers, afraid she'll run away.

She doesn't though. She seems to be content to hold his hand as she allows him to lead her to the edge of the hill their campsite is on. He helps her sit down there and brings out a small package of chocolate his little sister, Alice, had gotten to him as a parting gift before he was shipped off to war.

"What's this?" she asks.

Edward breaks a little bit of the chocolate and holds it out to her lips. She leans forward and takes a tentative bite of it, and then closing her eyes, she allows the chocolate to explode on her taste buds. "Mmm ..." She moans softly before opening her eyes, a look of wonder in there. "What did you get that?" she asks again, sounding more intrigued this time.

Edward answers. "It was a gift from my sister, Alice."

"Why did you share it with me then?"

He shrugs. "Because I wanted to," he answers honestly.

Her eyes shine with unshed tears as she leans forward and whispers, "Isabella. My name is Isabella."

He can't help himself then. He brings his hand up and places it on her cheek, feeling the softness of her skin. "Isabella Swan," he says her name, letting it roll off his tongue.

She leans into his touch, her eyes closed. "Why didn't you want to tell me your name?" he asks.

"I didn't want to form an attachment to anyone," she confesses. "It hurts when your friends die."

"Bella? May I call you Bella?" He waits for her nod of acquiescence and then says, "I don't want to be your friend. I want to be more to you than that."

She doesn't answer his remark. Instead, she places a hand over his, holding him to her. Edward takes her silence to be her consent and asks, "Why did you tell me your name today?"

She looks into his eyes and smiles. "Because you're a persistent man, Edward Masen. And I was tired of staying away from you."

With those words, she closes the gap between them and places her lips on his. Emboldened by her actions, Edward cups her face in his hands and kisses her lips tenderly, hoping to convey the words resonating in his heart.

 _I love you, Isabella Swan._

* * *

It is said that fate strikes when you least expect it. That's what happens when the news of a Nazi concentration camp reaches the allied forces. Sergeant Denali dispatches a platoon of soldiers to go and investigate the rumored site. Being one of few soldiers fluent in French, Edward is dispatched as the translator.

At the dawn of the day of his departure, he goes to visit Emmett and Isabella at the infirmary. He can't gather enough courage to tell his friend that he's leaving for war, not when his friend is numb from learning that he's never going to walk again.

His meeting with Isabella is another matter entirely. She listens intently as he describes the action plan for their platoon. Not one tear escapes her eyes as she leans in to press a kiss to his forehead. "Godspeed, Edward," she tells him when she pulls back.

"Will you be all right?" he enquires.

She shakes her head. "Not really, but I'll know you're alive as long as I can see the stars at night. Because, to me, you are the brightest point of light in my life, and only when the stars stop shining will I know that my light has been extinguished."

Her words make his heart clench painfully in his chest. Pulling her into his arms, he makes a vow. "Isabella Swan, I promise to love you with every breath I have, and if I never return, please know that I loved you in life and in death."

She doesn't respond; instead, she just holds him tighter, as if wishing she could merge their souls together.

In the moment of his departure, he clasps the hands of the elderly matron, Mrs. Stanley, and begs her to take care of his Isabella … his heart.

* * *

Some say that time seems to move slowly when one is waiting. But that isn't the case for Isabella. For her, time seems to have frozen in the moment she was wrapped in the arms of the man she loves. For two long days she just exists without truly living … without knowing for sure that _he_ lives. In some instances, she even feels like one of the walking dead she read about in fantastical books.

It's two days after Edward's departure that Jessica Stanley comes to find her. Isabella isn't too surprised by her sudden appearance by her side … until Mrs. Stanley hugs her. "Oh, my sweet girl!" she wails as she hugs Isabella.

"M-Mrs. Stanley?" she asks tentatively, her heart pounding fast at the merest implication that this might somehow be connected to Edward.

"Please take a seat, dear," the older woman says kindly.

Isabella doesn't move. She grasps her arm and asks in a shaky voice, "Is there any news of him?"

Mrs. Stanley wipes her eyes on her apron and nods. "Old Jim just returned."

Isabella looks behind her companion, searching futilely for a head filled with a mop of copper-colored hair. "You said James Hackett returned …" she starts to ask when a sudden thought catches her breath. "Wait! Did he return _alone_?"

Mrs. Stanley takes Isabella's hand in hers and squeezes in a show of support. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

In a voice that sounds hollow to even her own ears, Isabella asks, "What happened?"

"Lieutenant Hackett says it was a landmine," Mrs. Stanley says with a soft sob. "I can't believe all those boys are g-gone."

Isabella doesn't respond. She feels like she might never speak again as her heart breaks into a million pieces. A pain like she never imagined before pierces through her heart, and it's all she can do not to cry out loud in pain.

"Sweetheart?" Mrs. Stanley's voice reaches her through a mist that seems to encompass her whole being.

A hand lands on Isabella's shoulder, squeezing tightly. Then a sharp voice speaks from behind them. "How come all of the unit died except for James?"

It's Jessica Stanley's gasp of "Mr. McCarty!" that clues in Isabella to the presence of Emmett. Edward's best friend doesn't even pretend to deny that he'd eavesdropped on their conversation. Instead, he limps his way around the ladies to come and stand before them, his amputated leg shaking sorrowfully. "Where's James? Why is he alive when every other member of their unit is considered dead?" he repeats, looking from Mrs. Stanley to Isabella, neither of whom offer any answer to him.

Apparently, Mrs. Stanley decides to ignore Emmett and focuses her attention back on Isabella. "Isabella, sweetheart," she pleads. "You need to cry, dear. You need to mourn. I know Edward meant a lot to you … but you need to accept the truth. Holding this pain inside yourself isn't good for your health. Isabella? Are you listening to me?"

When Isabella speaks, her voice is scratchy from the tears she refuses to shed. "It's Bella," she says.

"I'm sorry?"

She doesn't look up from her hands while she explains. "My name … he calls me Bella."

"Oh dear!" The older woman's soft sob makes Isabella's eyes lift to look at her sharply.

"Don't do that!" she says angrily. "He's alive. I can feel it in my heart. So don't pretend that he's no more."

"Nurse Swan ..." Emmett starts, but she holds a hand up to silence him.

"I know his heart. Our hearts beat for each other. So, as long as my heart keeps beating, he must be alive," she concludes. Then, without allowing either of them to offer another word of consolation, she stands up and runs back inside the infirmary.

* * *

 _Two Weeks Later_

* * *

Hope is a fickle friend. It entices you to believe in your dreams and yet threatens to shatter that very dream into a million fragments. After James's miraculous escape from the Nazis, Sergeant Denali packs their camp up and leaves with his remaining men, afraid the Nazis will come for them.

In the days following their move, Isabella finds it hard to keep her hopes up. Mrs. Stanley takes up the duty to keep her spirits up at most times. However, even she falters at times. It's with her support and Emmett's encouragement that Isabella keeps going one day at a time.

One day, a storm of dust appears on the horizon, sending fear of a Nazi attack through them. It's when they're busy packing up the camp again that the source of the dust is revealed. The soldiers stationed at the outposts come running and screaming like madmen toward the main camp.

The sight that greets them leaves them all in a collective silence. There, standing at the head of what seems like an army of soldiers is a man no one expected to lay eyes on again—Major Jasper Whitlock, the man who had led the platoon to the Nazi camp.

Sergeant Denali rushes to greet Major Whitlock. "Jasper! You're alive! How … We thought …"

"That they were dead," a man with a thick French accent intercedes. "Is that why you abandoned your men and left your campground?"

The Sergeant recoils at the accusation in the man's voice. "Who are you?"

Straightening his back, the man answers, "Capitaine Hugo Laurent. I'm in charge of this unit."

Sergeant Denali looks to Major Whitlock for answers. "Jasper?"

"Sergeant," Major Whitlock finally speaks. "When we went to investigate the Nazi camp, we were captured. Captain Laurent and his men saved us. When we came back to our campground, you were gone. So Captain allowed us to ride with him in order to find you."

"But James said you were all dead," the sergeant says. "He said it was a landmine explosion."

A scoff comes from somewhere within the men standing behind Captain Laurent, and a man steps forward from the rest. "Sergeant," he says. "How did none of you question why James didn't die in the explosion with the rest of us?"

Silence falls on the group as everyone stands still at his accusations; everyone except Emmett McCarty. Balancing himself on his crutches, he comes forward and looks at his fellow soldiers. "See? I kept saying something wasn't right. Edward's right. We should have questioned James's motives. We're guilty of giving up on them."

"It seems like James was in cahoots with the Nazis. He sold us out in exchange for his life," Major Whitlock informs their audience.

In a gravelly tone, Sergeant Denali requests Captain Laurent's help in finding the traitorous soldier, who was nowhere to be seen, and thanks him profusely for returning his men to safety.

It's only when the dispute has been settled that Edward breaks away from the group and comes to Emmett. The two brothers-at-arms hug each other. When Edward inquires of the whereabouts of his Bella, what Emmett tells him breaks his heart. It seems that being overtaken by the grief of losing him, Bella has lost the will to live. "She never leaves the infirmary," Emmett informs him. "I'm sure you'll find her there."

* * *

Like clockwork, the dream finds her. Every time she falls asleep, the dream haunts her … the dream of _him_. Something feels different about today's dream though. The feel of his touch on her face feels more vivid as does the sound of his voice.

"Bella? Love?" his voice calls to her, and she can't help the sob that escapes her throat even in her sleep.

Usually, her sobs break the spell, but not today. No, today, they seem to make his voice more persistent. "Bella? Love, open your eyes. Please. Don't cry, love."

She starts shaking her head in order to make the torturous voice stop. Then a mouth presses to hers, making her wake up with a gasp. "Get off me!" she yells as her eyes snap open. It takes her a moment to process what she sees. Finally, she manages to croak in a hoarse voice, "Edward?"

With mischief glinting in his eyes, he smiles down at her, his face looming right above hers. "You really want me to get off?" he teases.

"You … it … it's really you!" she stammers. "You're … oh, God! You're here. You've come back!"

With a smile playing on his lips, he nods. "I had to come back to you, Bella. I'd left my heart with you, remember?"

A sob of desperation escapes her as she flings her arms around his neck and pulls him down to kiss him hard. Edward lets out a chuckle at her enthusiasm then kisses her back with just as much fervor.

From afar, Jessica Stanley watches the two lovers reunite and wipes a teardrop from her eyes. At least, some love stories have happy endings.

* * *

 _Chicago, August 15, 1945_

* * *

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it, my dear?" Rose McCarty asks her husband as they watch the bride try to surreptitiously wipe the tears from her eyes. The groom reaches over and wipes them away for her, making Rose sigh.

Emmett, who always prides himself for not being a softhearted man, sniffles, barely holding back his own tears as he watches his best friend get married. "It is," he answers his wife. "And a very beautiful service."

"Em, are you crying?" Rose asks, unable to hide her smile.

Emmett sniffles again, turning his face away from her. "No, just something got into my eyes."

Rose smiles then and places a kiss on his cheek. "It's okay to cry," she tells him. "Their love is worth it."

Forgetting his previous qualms about crying, Emmett takes his wife's hand in his and squeezes. "They look so happy," he says.

The guests all watch as Edward kisses his wife for the first time. Then just after the officiant pronounces them husband and wife, Edward lifts her in his arms and kisses her again, making her giggle.

Jessica Stanley laughs from across the aisle. "They make a perfect couple, don't they?" she asks.

Rose nods. "They truly do."

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading.**

 **I'd love to hear your thoughts on this little story of mine. So leave a review, please?**

 **Take care.**

 **Love,**

 **Ann**


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